


so here's your chance (go on take your hit)

by lyrically_lost



Series: Kiersey College Introductions [1]
Category: Kiersey College (Webseries), Original Work
Genre: Character Introduction, Friendship, Gen, Hockey, Kiersey College, LJ Bachmann is a Walking Disaster and That's OK, Marching Band, Several references to pop punk music, a sullen but cool hockey-playing enby from minnesota, the hockey boys who you are equally as immature as but also in charge of, the weird and wild members of a marching band sax section, when your best friends include:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27018865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrically_lost/pseuds/lyrically_lost
Summary: If LJ Bachmann's life is an album, freshman year at Kiersey College is just the next song.She finds her place in the marching band and with the tight-knit saxophone section. She makes some new friends, like her sullen but cool classmate Brady. And then somehow she winds up as the manager for the men's hockey team.Like an unresolved chord, unexpected situations lead to the best destinations.
Series: Kiersey College Introductions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067705
Kudos: 2
Collections: Kiersey College





	so here's your chance (go on take your hit)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Reasons” by The Bottom Line.

The sun shines down on the main quad at Kiersey College. Lining every sidewalk is a table advertising some student club or organization, trying to recruit confused and overwhelmed freshmen into their ranks. 

LJ isn’t overwhelmed, per se. Confused, maybe. Unsure, definitely. There aren’t many tables catching her eye, since she’s fairly set in her circles. She’s been with the marching band people since band camp in August, and she’ll be with them for the rest of the year in concert band and jazz band and stuff. 

The only group she actually put her name down for was Queer Kiersey, the LGBTQ student society. Yeah, queer people can be catty as hell--the GSA at her high school proved that--but it’s always comforting to have a community. Plus Alex said QK was cool, and eight times out of ten, Alex is pretty trustworthy. 

As she keeps walking, LJ crosses over from the land of the academic organizations to the land of the sports clubs. There are a few tables for the club and intramural teams--soccer, basketball, softball, flag football. Her eyes graze a table for club hockey, and LJ hesitates for a moment. She could play if she wanted to, she was cleared for the ice, but she just doesn’t have the time, especially once classes start. Her knee aches, mirroring the regret aching in her mind. Maybe in another life, an alternate universe where she never got injured, things would be different.

* * *

LJ is slowly but surely growing to hate her freshman seminar. All incoming freshmen have to take one, something about artistic movements or historical periods and linking it to the present or some other boring-ass liberal arts idea. This one is supposedly about connections between current events and classic literature, but so far, all LJ has done is spend way too much time reading old newspaper articles from the 1800s. The only good thing is that the class is blissfully small, only 25 people compared to the huge and even more boring lecture courses.

Once they finish reading another newspaper article (it’s making fun of Mark Twain, so at least it’s semi-amusing), the professor breaks up the class into groups of five, and LJ finds herself shoved together with four strangers. The first is a guy named Andrew who LJ’s definitely seen in a Patriots hat, so she doesn’t like him already. Then there’s two nearly-identical white girls—same blonde-streaked hair, same black leggings and white sneakers, same bored look. LJ knows their names are Anna and Emma, but she can never remember which is which. They definitely play field hockey, or volleyball, or one of those other cliquey girls sports. Last is Brady, who has a sick haircut and constantly confuses LJ because they’re hot, but she can’t figure out what gender they are. Brady looks done with them all and honestly? LJ can relate.

“So…” Andrew starts. “What are we gonna say?”

“I don’t know,” Brady mumbles. “Something about satire?”

“What are we talking about again?” Anna—LJ thinks it’s Anna but it might be Emma—asks, glancing up from her phone.

“The Mark Twain article?” LJ says. “So yeah, let’s go satire.”

Satire is what they go with, actually. When their odd group is called on, LJ, Andrew, and Brady bullshit a thing about how satire can be misconstrued. The professor seems pleased enough, so clearly it does the trick.

Class lets out shortly after each group has said their equally-bullshitted bits, and LJ is eager to leave. She has two hours before her next class, so she’ll get lunch, maybe do some work, then figure out where Nina is and go bug her. 

LJ winds up following Brady out, and she notices that they have a ton of pins on their backpack. There’s one with yellow, white, purple, and black stripes--a pride flag of some kind, LJ just can’t remember which--with a bunch of 1s and 0s superimposed over it. One has a picture of a goalie mask and the words “DON’T PUCK WITH ME.” A third says “they/them” in purple cursive. Another has a gold outline of the state of Minnesota over a maroon background. 

So Brady is queer, and probably a hockey person. LJ can work with that.

She walks a little faster until she’s even with them. “Hey, Brady,” she says.

“What?” they reply, sounding annoyed. Their annoyance doesn’t fade when they realize it’s LJ.

“I like your pins,” LJ offers.

“Thanks.”

So now LJ has to decide whether to go the hockey route or the queer route. The hockey route is safer, so she’ll start there. “‘Don’t puck with me,’ huh?” she says. “Hockey fan?”

“I guess,” Brady replies. “I play.”

“Wait, really? That’s sick. What position?”

“Goalie.”

“That’s awesome. I have mad respect for goalies, what you guys do is insane,” LJ says.

“You’re not wrong.”

“Are you on the school team?”

Brady gives LJ a look. “This isn’t 20 Questions. You’re asking too much shit.”

“I, uh… sorry,” LJ says. “You seem cool, so I just want to, like, get to know you.”

Brady looks like they’re mentally weighing something. Then they sigh and say, “LJ, right?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to get lunch. You can come with if you want. I’m a better conversationalist when I’m not hungry.”

LJ has to fight her face’s urge to split into a huge grin. She goes for a chirp instead. “I think that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say at once.”

Brady smirks. “Don’t make me rescind my invitation.” 

* * *

“Braaaadyyyy!” LJ draws out her best friend’s name as she slides into the seat next to them. 

Brady doesn’t even glance up from their computer. “Let me guess. You’re hungover and want to complain about it.”

LJ scowls. “No! How much of an alcoholic do you think I am?” When Brady gives her a pointed look, she adds, “Don’t answer that.”

“So if it’s not because you’re hungover, why are you bothering me?”

“Wanna go to a football game on Saturday?”

Brady shrugs. “Eh. Football isn’t really my thing.”

“Not even to support your best friend and her kickass marching band show?” LJ says. “We’re planning something really good this week! And I can get you seats near the band if you want.”

“No thank you,” Brady replies quickly. “I value my hearing.”

“Okay fair,” LJ admits. “But will you at least come to the game?”

“I’ll think about it.”

LJ grins. “Sweet.” She asks, “How are things in hockey land?”

“Good, I guess,” Brady replies. “Chelsea switched everyone’s gear before practice this morning, so we had to hunt around for our stuff at six in the morning.”

“That sounds rough. Well, that also sounds funny, but mostly rough.”

“Apparently Mitchie, Marchy, and Farro have a plan for revenge, so we’ll see how that turns out,” Brady says.

“Those three have the best trio of nicknames,” LJ remarks. “But you’ve definitely gotta fill me in on their revenge plot.” She adds, “Hey, isn’t the Orchard Classic coming up?”

“Yeah, two weeks.”

“Do the back-to-backs mean you’ll get some starts?”

Brady shrugs. “I hope so. But we’ll see what happens.”

“I hope so too,” LJ says. “I got tickets and I want to see my best friend kill it in net!”

“Just so you know, the best friendship is not mutual,” Brady deadpans.

LJ grins. “You’re lying to yourself and that’s okay.”

* * *

It’s only 10:30 in the morning and LJ is already having a bad day. Her history professor dropped a huge-ass assignment on her, it’s cloudy and grey and her knee is aching like holy hell so it’s definitely going to rain, and she woke up late so she didn’t have time to get coffee before class. 

LJ is so done with this day, but she’s hoping to make it just a little better as she heads to Bluegrass to get herself a Latte of the Week. According to Nina, it’s cinnamon apple, and LJ can’t wait. 

The walk is actually kind of peaceful. The air is comfortably cool, a good late autumn chill before the weather will dive headfirst into a New England winter. LJ had thrown on her gold Kiersey marching band sweatshirt and her favorite denim jacket this morning as she ran to class, but it was a good choice. She fishes her earbuds out of her pocket, plugs them into her phone, and hits shuffle on the first of her Spotify playlists she sees. Grayscale’s “Atlantic” pours into her ears. It’s pretty nice. Until suddenly, LJ makes contact with another body. 

Papers go flying. A coffee cup does a flip in midair, spilling its contents across the sidewalk. LJ’s phone drops from her hand, pulling her headphones out of her ears. 

There’s a guy laying on the sidewalk in front of her. LJ’s time as a defender taught her how to take a flying body with a lot more force than the dude who walked into her, so she’s still standing, but she’s surprised. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she exclaims, extending a hand to the guy on the ground.

“It’s okay,” the guy says, taking LJ’s hand and pulling himself back to his feet. He’s actually pretty cute, with dark brown hair a little shorter than chin length shoved under a beanie and warm sandy-toned skin, although he wears a frazzled expression. “I ran into you, so…” The guy frowns at his spilled coffee, then starts picking up his papers, although some had been blown across the street. 

LJ crouches down and helps him pick up his papers. They look like flyers for something, printed in bold fonts and Kiersey blue and gold. She reads one quickly. “The men’s hockey team is looking for a manager?” she says.

At the same time, the guy asks, “Is your phone okay?”

At the same time again, they both respond, “Yeah.”

“Jinx,” LJ quips. “But yeah, my phone is fine. Good case and this thing is practically indestructible.”

The guy chuckles. “Well, that’s good,” he says. “And yeah. Men’s hockey needs a new manager, since the current one is me and I’m graduating at the end of the semester. You interested?”

LJ glances at the flyer once more. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The guy offers an awkward smile. “Keep the flyer then. That’s my number at the bottom, call me if you’re still interested.” He adds, “I’m Mason, by the way.”

“LJ,” she says. “Maybe I will.”

Mason rearranges the stack of things in his hands once more, then says, “Well, sorry again, and if I see you around, I hope it’s under better circumstances.”

“Yeah,” LJ replies. “You too.”

Mason leaves, and so does LJ. But as she’s waiting in line for her latte at Bluegrass, she can’t help but think about Mason’s offer. 

Later that day, she’s walking back to Foundry Hall, where her dorm is, after an evening all-woodwind sectional. It wasn’t that bad, all things considered. They went over the music for this week’s show, then had cake for Owen’s birthday. Which, LJ needs to stop by that bakery Halle works at more often. It’s vegan, but vegan bakeries are actual witchcraft, making things that delicious without milk or butter or eggs.

She sticks her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket as she listens to Mayday Parade. Her right hand hits a folded and crumpled piece of paper, so she pulls it out and straightens it out. It’s the flyer from this morning, the one about the men’s hockey manager opening she got from the dude she crashed into. What was his name again? Mason, right. 

She stares at the flyer and as if on cue, her knee aches again, a reminder of what she’s missing. And in a split-second decision, LJ pulls out her phone and dials the number on the flyer. “Hi, is this Mason?”

“This is he,” the voice on the other end says.

“It’s LJ, from this morning?” she says, trying and failing not to sound unsure. “I’m calling about the men’s hockey manager position?”

Mason sounds surprised. “Really?”

“Um, yeah?”

“Sorry, that’s great!” he says. “I’m just surprised, you’re the first person who’s called all day.”

“Huh.”

“So you want to be the hockey team manager?” Mason asks.

“Yeah. I think so,” LJ replies.

“That’s awesome,” Mason says. “Well, since you’re the only one who’s up for it so far, there’s practice for the guys tomorrow morning. You want to tag along so I can show you the ropes?”

“Sure.”

“Alright then. See you at 6.”

“AM?” LJ asks.

“Yup,” Mason replies. “Coach Allard has a thing about morning practices, but you’ll get used to it, trust me.”

“Alright then,” LJ says. “See you tomorrow.”

Mason adds, “And LJ?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

* * *

“LJ, Nina! There you are!” LJ hears Alex call. The energetic junior waves them over. Alex, Izzy, Mikey P, Sam, and the rest of the saxophone section are crowded around a fire pit, where a small bonfire is burning. No wonder LJ smelled wood smoke. 

Alex motions to two chairs next to her, and LJ and Nina sit down.

“So, my favorite freshmen,” Alex begins.

“Hey!” Owen protests. 

Alex waves in his direction. “Love you too, O, but you’re, y’know, a dude,” she says. “But anyway! First season is over, and now you’re at your first saxophone bonfire. How you feeling?”

“Good, I guess,” Nina replies. “Do you guys do this every year?”

“It’s tradition,” Izzy responds. “They’ve been doing it since before we were freshmen.”

“So grab a drink and chill out,” Sam adds, motioning to the cooler at his feet. “We’re still waiting on the sophs, but once they get here, it’s s’mores and superlatives time.”

“Ooh, fun,” LJ remarks. She then takes the opportunity to head to the cooler and grab a drink. She pulls out a beer can and shakes off the excess water.

“Uh-uh,” Izzy says firmly. “No underage drinking at my sax bonfire.”

LJ drops the can back into the cooler ungracefully and makes an exaggerated pout. “You’re no fun.”

“I’ve seen you drunk, LJ,” Izzy says. “I’m saving you from yourself.”

LJ slumps back into her chair. “Fine.”

The gate to the backyard opens with a loud creak. “We got marshmallows, we got graham crackers, we got chocolate!” Akash calls.

Halle adds, “And we had to stop Colby from climbing a tree to get sticks.”

“The branch was dead and those twigs were the perfect length!” Colby protests.

“You guys can’t do anything without getting into trouble, can you?” Mikey says.

“Didn’t we start calling them something last year?” Zach adds. “Something about their class?”

“Roaring 2020!” Colby says. “Best class nickname.”

“It’s still accurate,” Sam remarks.

“So is it s’mores time?” Alex says. “Cause I’m gonna win best marshmallow this year.”

“Not a chance,” Ethan challenges. “I’ve got a title to keep.”

“Wait, there’s a competition for best marshmallow?” Owen asks.

Mikey replies. “Yup. Best marshmallow and best s’mores.”

Sam adds, “Sax bonfire tradition. And be on your A-game, y’all, ‘cause Mikey P, Izzy, and I are particular.”

Owen grins. “I’m in.”

“Someone should probably add another log to the fire before we start marshmallow roasting,” Zach suggests.

“I got it!” Colby exclaims, picking up a fat log from the pile of firewood. 

Alex takes the log from the sophomore’s hands. “No way. We’re not letting Colby ‘Arson’ Brickell anywhere near the fire.”

The log was then lifted from Alex’s hands, too. “And we’re not letting Accident-Prone Alex anywhere near the fire either,” Halle declares. “And before you stand up, LJ, you’re also banned.”

“What’ve I done?” LJ exclaims.

Nina shrugs next to her. “You’re too chaotic to be trustworthy.”

“Wait, isn’t one of the guys a Boy Scout?” Alex says.

“Uh, I am,” Owen responds.

Halle hands him the log. “Perfect. The fire is your responsibility now.”

There are a few cheers for the hapless freshman, who drops the log onto the fire, then carefully adjusts it with the poker so it catches. Once the bonfire is burning once more, a bag of marshmallows and several sticks are passed around the group. 

There’s a lot of jostling near the sophomores’ side of the fire. Ethan stands calmly by the edge, the very top of a tongue of flame licking his marshmallow. Meanwhile, Akash is using his height to reach over and in between Ethan and Halle. Halle has to keep moving her stick and marshmallow because Colby, instead of roasting a marshmallow of their own, is trying to sabotage the others. 

To the left of the sophomore group, Zach lights his marshmallow on fire, letting the outside char before blowing it out. Alex is constantly turning her marshmallow, trying to get an even golden-brown roast. 

LJ is pretty satisfied with her own marshmallow, so she pulls it out of the fire and turns to Alex. “What do I do now?”

“You going for best marshmallow or best s’more?” the junior asks in response.

“Marshmallow.”

“So put it on a plate and give it to the seniors.”

LJ does as Alex directed, grabbing one of the paper plates off the food table and gingerly depositing her marshmallow onto it. She then walks to where the three seniors have placed themselves and bends over in a bow, holding out the plate with her marshmallow. “Your seniorities,” she says. “I present my humble entry for the marshmallow contest.”

“I like the presentation,” Sam remarks. “At ease, freshman.”

LJ stands back up straight as Mikey says, “Not a bad marshmallow at first glance. Nothing burned, a few patches of golden-brown, a little crispiness at the top.”

“But…” Izzy prompts.

Mikey finishes, “It’s not evenly roasted. You can clearly tell what was the bottom and what was the top.”

The sophomores “ooh” like a sitcom sound effect.

“As for texture and taste,” Izzy says. She takes a plastic knife and cuts the marshmallow into three sections. “Nicely melted on the inside,” she notes, “but no crust.” She eats one of the sections and passes the other two to Sam and Mikey. 

“Final ruling?” Sam asks, looking at the other two seniors. All three nod, then Sam says, “Satisfactory. Not bad for your first one, freshman.”

The other saxophones clap softly as LJ takes her seat back. 

Over the next few minutes, all of the others went up to present their marshmallows or s’mores for the approval of the seniors. Akash’s marshmallow was charred on top, which got him docked points. The chocolate on Nina’s s’more wasn’t properly dispersed, so Sam got just marshmallow and graham crackers. Colby, living up to their nickname, presented a still flaming marshmallow to the seniors; they liked the presentation, but what used to be a marshmallow was now inedible. The seniors liked that Halle melted the chocolate in her s’more in the fire, but thought her marshmallow was just a little undercooked. Owen’s marshmallow was a little burnt on the outside but perfectly melted on the inside. Izzy admitted she was hesitant about Zach’s charred marshmallow, but since he pulled off the charred skin, she, Sam, and Mikey agreed that his s’more was near-perfect. Ethan and Alex had almost identical marshmallows, evenly golden brown all over, and the seniors approved.

Once all of the saxophones had presented their marshmallow creations, the seniors deliberate in hushed tones. Then Izzy announces, “We have reached a verdict.”

The underclassmen watch the three seniors, rapt.

Izzy begins, “The winner of best s’mores is…”

“Zach Lieberman,” Mikey concludes.

LJ and the other underclassmen clap. 

“Altos do it right!” Akash calls.

“As for best marshmallow, it was a tough one this year,” Izzy says. “We had some very good entries, but the winner is…”

Sam finishes, “Alex Jimenez.”

“Hell yeah!” she shouts. “Junior sweep baby!” Alex holds out her hand and high-fives Zach. With a pointed look towards Ethan, she adds, “Take that!”

“Now do us proud next year, okay?” Izzy says. With that one remark, all the excitement drains out of the backyard.

“Aw, come on! It’s sax bonfire, we don’t want to be sad!” Alex complains.

“It’s a subtle ploy to get you all to join pep band,” Mikey says. “If you do, you get to see us until the end of basketball season.”

Sam adds with a grin, “And then we make you sad again!” 

“Maybe I won’t join pep band this year,” Halle proposes evenly. “Just to not give you the satisfaction.”

And then LJ realizes, “Wait, shit.”

“What?” Nina asks.

“I don’t think I can even do pep band,” she says. “I’m managing the men’s hockey team starting next semester.”

“Right, you were telling me about that. That’s cool!” Nina replies.

“LJ, you’ve betrayed us!” Alex declares dramatically. “Rejected your kindred saxophones for a bunch of hockey boys!”

“Who betrayed what now?” Colby asks. “I thought we were still making fun of the seniors.”

“LJ is ditching us.” Alex adds air quotes as she says, “She’s ‘managing’ the ‘hockey team.’”

“I signed up on a whim last month and didn’t even think about pep band, I’m sorry,” LJ says sheepishly.

“I think we can give you a pass for that one,” Izzy replies. “Wouldn’t be so sure about next year, though.”

Sam adds, “But we better see you at a few games! Bring your sax and play with us.”

LJ smiles. “Oh, absolutely.”

The conversation grows less organized from there, people switching seats and stories, but the smile stays on LJ’s face. The sun sets and the fire burns through several more logs, but the saxophones stick together.

* * *

Ever since she was young, LJ’s felt nervous energy in her legs. Most people say they feel nervous in the pit of their stomach, but for LJ, it’s always been her legs. Wiggling toes, bouncing knees, tapping heels, static in the soles of her feet, from hockey games to marching band performances to interviews. It got worse after her injury, her achy knee only adding to her bodily sensations of anxiety.

She feels that buzzing in her lower body today as she uses the key Mason gave her and strides into Meelia. She knows this building well by now, where everything is and belongs, its procedures and protocols and what she needs to do about that, but it feels almost foreign once more. 

There’s a game today, Kiersey vs. UConn, but it’s a different kind of game, for LJ at least. It’s her first game running solo. Mason told her he has “job stuff” to do tonight, but LJ has a hunch he blew off the game to have a date night with his girlfriend (and maybe give LJ a good learning experience, but that’s simply a positive side effect).

The game isn’t for a couple of hours, but LJ prefers to do her managerial duties at the arena rather than somewhere else. It makes her more focused, although that isn’t saying much. 

There’s a storage closet near the locker room that Mason had turned into his personal office. The word “STORAGE” had been crossed out and “MASON” painted sloppily underneath. LJ will have to redo it again with her own name soon. There are a handful of signs posted on the door, too. LJ smirks at her favorite, which read in simple black block letters, “DICKS OUT, DON’T BOTHER.” For a former storage closet, it’s actually fairly comfortable. Mason had set up a desk and chair, with a desk lamp and fairy lights (in Kiersey blue and gold, of course) for light. 

LJ sits down at the desk and flips open her computer for her first task: spreadsheet reorganization. Second only to dealing with the equipment closet, anything involving spreadsheets is her least favorite duty. Over winter break, she’s gonna have to watch a bunch of those “Excel for Dummies” videos if she’s going to do this full-time. Technically, the entering of stats and the notation of coaches’ comments was something LJ should’ve done two days ago--well, Mason should have done it two days ago, but he was watching something on Netflix so he told LJ to do it, but she was doing work--but she’s doing it now instead. It’s far enough before game time that she should get only a half-frustrated sigh from Coach Ince instead of a full chewing-out.

LJ pulls out her phone and her headphones and turns on one of her more upbeat playlists. “Nice2KnoU,” her favorite song off the newest All Time Low album, pours out, and LJ lets herself sing along as she starts working.

Spreadsheet wrangling goes better than LJ expected, so she has time to spare before the boys start showing up. Which, unfortunately for her, means she has no excuse but to tackle the project she’s been putting off for two weeks: reorganizing the equipment closet.

Being the neurotic STEM guy he is, Mason is pretty good at keeping things neat. The exception to that is the equipment closet. In classic fashion, if there’s something Mason doesn’t want to do, he makes LJ do it, so she was tasked with fixing the results of half a semester’s worth of neglect. 

LJ skips the next few songs on her playlist to find the right one, eventually settling on State Champs’ “All You Are Is History.” She opens the door to the equipment closet and coughs. Even though most things in there are new or lightly used, there’s a pervading scent of mold and B.O. that’s immediately off-putting. The equipment closet is even more of a mess than LJ was expecting. Things have fallen off the shelves and onto the floor, and the things on the shelves are in tilting, half-upright stacks, if you could even call them that. LJ sighs again. She has her work cut out for her. And she’s gonna make Mason buy her coffee when this is all over.

LJ is singing along with Mayday Parade to “Jamie All Over” as she attempts to sort gear by player when a voice calls, “Hello?”

LJ pulls out her earbuds and takes a step into the slightly fresher air of the hallway. “Parker, hey,” she greets.

“Oh, hey LJ,” he replies. “What’re you up to?”

“Attempting to reorganize the equipment closet.”

Parker cringes. “That’s rough,” he says. “You’re doing us a major service, though. I probably owe you coffee or something for the effort.”

LJ chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. Mason’s the one who owes me Bluegrass for putting me up to this.”

Parker smiles back. “Fair enough. Where is Mason, anyway?”

“Ditched me,” LJ replies. “Said he had job stuff, but my hunch is he just wanted to hang out with his girlfriend.”

Parker shrugs. “Probably isn’t too far from the truth,” he says. “Well, I’m gonna start prepping for the game, so I’ll let you finish up.”

“Alright, see you later.”

She’s about to duck back into the depths of the equipment closet when Parker adds, “Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think we’ve told you yet, but we’re glad to have you around, LJ,” he says. “I’m looking forward to having you with the team for the rest of the year.”

LJ feels a smile spread across her face. “Thanks, Parker,” she replies. “I’m glad to be here.” She points back toward the closet. “I’m gonna get back to my thing now, so you go do yours. See you.”

Parker nods. “Yeah, see you.”

The rest of the guys start to file in after Parker, and LJ decides to give up on the equipment closet. Mason can help her fix his mess later. LJ heads back to the manager’s office, but props the door open to listen in as the guys show up. Teegs is the most obvious, as usual, loudly announcing his entrance and earning some good-natured ribbing in the process. Rhodey, Nando, and Touille come in as a group, with the other two freshmen chirping Nando for being flustered that his boyfriend is coming to watch the game.

Mason likes to do a short announcement once everyone has shown up, and LJ decides she’s going to do the same. Hockey players like their pregame routines and she is a former hockey player, so...

Most of the boys are gathered in the locker room, so that’s where LJ heads. She stands toward the center of the room, just behind the knight logo in the middle of the floor. 

“‘Sup guys,” she says. “Just me today, so you get a day off from Mason judging you.”

There are some cheers and applause from the guys.

“You guys know the drill, so I’ll keep this short. Make sure your shit ends up where it’s supposed to, that means jerseys in the laundry basket or you’re washing it yourself.” With a pointed look in his direction, she adds, “Our good friend Nando knows this very well, so don’t let it happen again.” 

In classic fashion, the locker room erupts into noise and chirping. When the din dies down, LJ continues, “And can you guys please not take so many penalties today? My hand was cramping trying to write it all down last time.”

“No promises,” Teegs responds, smirking.

“Moral of the story is, just try not to make my life any harder than it already is. I know that’s a lot to ask for a men’s hockey team, so I admit my hopes aren’t too high, but maybe you guys can prove me wrong,” LJ concludes, “I’m heading back to the office, knock if you need me, but you know the sign- dicks out, don’t bother me. See you later.”

“Thanks, LJ,” David says, and the rest of the boys echo him. “Yeah, thanks LJ.”

LJ smiles and offers a little two-finger salute, then ducks into the hallway and opens the door to the manager’s office. Once she sits down at the desk, she switches her playlist from upbeat sing-along vibes to her hockey playlist full of Canadian punk. The opening riff of PUP’s “If This Tour Doesn’t Kill You, I Will” drips out of her headphones, and LJ smirks; she has the feeling she’ll need to apply the same logic to her team next semester. She’s scrolling through Twitter as the music plays. Sum 41’s “Walking Disaster,” Like Pacific’s “Distant,” Seaway’s “Something Wonderful.” When Deadlights’ “Undoing” starts playing, LJ can’t help but tap on her desk to the beat and sing along.

It’s as she’s rocking out that there’s a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” LJ calls. She adds, “You better be following the sign!” and then belatedly but desperately hopes it’s not one of the coaches.

“It’s Ben!” the voice responds. “And I’m following the sign! I even put on a shirt for you.”

LJ gets up from her seat and opens the office door, revealing Rhodey, who is, in fact, wearing his Under Armor shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. One less thing LJ will wind up yelling at him for, she supposes.

“What do you want?” she asks impatiently.

He begins, “Okay, this is gonna sound kinda stupid…” 

“Stop right there,” LJ interjects. “If it’s stupid, why are you bothering me?”

“You seem more murderous than usual today,” Rhodey remarks.

“You interrupted my favorite song, so…”

“Wait, which song?”

“‘Undoing’ by Deadlights. So good.” LJ pauses. “Wait, you’re distracting me! Get on with your point.”

“Okay, okay!” he says. “So I got a haircut last week, nothing major but a few inches off the bottom, and now my usual ponytail isn’t sitting right under my mask. And you’ve always got fun braids and stuff going on, so I was hoping you could braid my hair?”

LJ can’t help but laugh. “Less stupid than I expected it to be.”

“So is that a yes?”

“Sure.”

Rhodey smiles. “Sweet.”

“So what kind of braid do you want?” LJ asks.

“I dunno,” Rhodey replies. “What kind do you have?”

LJ runs a hand over her own two braids. “These are Dutch braids, but if you want something to fit better under your mask, that’s not what you’re looking for.”

“Since you’re the expert, what do you think I should do?” he asks.

“Single French braid down the back.” She adds, “If you want something real fun I can fishtail the end.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Alright then, French braid with fishtail it is,” LJ says. “You got a brush or comb or something?”

“I have a brush in my bag?”

“Yeah, you’re gonna want to go get that.”

“Then I will go get it.”

Rhodey runs back to the locker room to grab his hairbrush, and LJ smiles to herself. Out of all the boys on the team, Rhodey is probably the one LJ is closest to; their banter always has a familiar ease. 

Rhodey rounds the corner by the office, waving a pink hairbrush. “Got it!”

“Great. Come on in.” LJ wheels the desk chair from behind the desk as Rhodey steps into the office. She motions to the chair. “Take a seat.”

“How official,” Rhodey remarks. He sits down and pulls the scrunchie out of his hair, then grins back at LJ. “Work your magic,” he quips as he hands her the hairbrush.

LJ chuckles as she pulls his hair back, then runs the brush through it a few times to get out the knots. 

“Ow!” Rhodey exclaims as she’s working out one knot.

“What?”

“You’re pulling too much!”

“Suck it up,” LJ says. “Beauty hurts, man.”

Rhodey pouts but submits. Luckily for him, it was the last substantial knot. 

LJ gathers a few strands at the top of his head to start braiding, then exclaims, “What the fuck, why is your hair so dry?”

“It’s not  _ that _ bad,” Rhodey says.

“No, it’s definitely that bad,” LJ responds. “Use some fucking conditioner or something!”

“I do!”

“Well, whatever you’re using isn’t good enough. You’ve got pretty thick hair, so you need a good conditioner.”

“What I’m using is fine.”

“If you want me to do your hair again, get a better conditioner.”

“That depends on how well you do this time.”

“Okay, fair enough.”

The conversation peters out a little from there, as LJ winds her fingers through Rhodey’s dry hair, pulling it together into a French braid. The one earbud in her right ear changes songs, and LJ hums along to Deadlights’ “Growing Pains.”

“What’s so catchy?” Rhodey asks. 

“‘Growing Pains,’” she responds. “It’s more Deadlights. They don’t have a bad song.”

“I’ve gotta listen to them, then. You’ve name-dropped them twice.”

“You totally should, they’re one of my favorite bands,” LJ says. “Actually, you want my other earbud?”

“You sure?”

“Why not? You get to hear my Canadian punk hockey playlist.”

“Sounds good to me.” Rhodey takes the other earbud, and a smile spreads across his face soon after. “Damn, you weren’t kidding, this is good!”

“Told you so.”

LJ finishes the rest of Rhodey’s hairstyle, moving from the French braid top to the fishtailed end, as the two of them sit in comfortable silence to the outside, but comfortable punk music to their ears. She ties off the end of the braid with a hair tie, then proclaims, “And there you go!”

Rhodey runs a hand over the back of his head. “You worked some sort of hair wizardry or something.”

“Wanna see?”

“Totally.”

“Pass me your phone.”

Rhodey does, and LJ takes a picture of the back of his head, then shows it to him. “Some of my better work, if I do say so myself.”

“That looks so sick,” Rhodey says. “Thanks, LJ.”

“You’re welcome,” LJ replies. “Now go get ready. See you on the ice.”

Rhodey grins. “My shutout will be dedicated to you and your hairstyling and your awesome music choice!”

LJ chuckles as he closes the door to the office behind him. She pushes the desk chair back to its normal spot, then sits down and replaces her earbuds. Seaway’s “Best Mistake” is playing. LJ glances at her watch as the song hits the chorus, then jumps to her feet. “Shit,” she mutters. In all the time she spent enjoying her music and braiding Rhodey’s hair, she forgot to make the guys’ water bottles.

As she scrambles out of the office, LJ actually wishes Mason were around. Then she quickly amends her thoughts as she realizes that Mason probably would have forgotten too, and then they’d both be rushing to fill water bottles. But at least she’d have a second set of hands. 

As she’s speed walking towards the makeshift kitchen, LJ sees Coach Ince walking down the hall towards her, probably on his way to the locker room for a pregame pep talk or something. She would much rather avoid eye contact and just try to get her task done, but with a mental sigh, she takes out her earbuds and says, “Hi, Coach.”

“Hi, LJ. I was just looking for you, actually,” Coach Ince says, and LJ mentally prepares herself to get chewed out for her terrible spreadsheet. “I know it’s just you today, but you and Mason have been doing good for the team so far, so I trust you can handle it. You’ve got a good eye for tracking what’s going on on the ice, so keep at it.”

“Thanks, Coach,” LJ replies. 

Coach Ince smiles and continues on his way, so LJ puts her headphones back in her ears and picks up pace. Sum 41’s “Still Waiting” is playing, and she lets it urge her on.

Luckily, she does get all the guys’ water bottles set up before they have to be on the ice, though she did feel like a chicken without a head while scrambling to get the right ratios of water and sports drink for each player. But everything is set up for them on the bench by the time they head out for warmups, so LJ has done her job.

She settles into her usual spot at the end of the bench, clipboard in hand with her two mechanical pencils clipped to the top. Mason likes to do his scoresheets digitally, but LJ fell into doing them by hand, just scribbling numbers and notes on a piece of paper that she’ll probably plug into a spreadsheet later. They get really messy, and almost no one but her can understand it (though Mason said he’s trying to learn), but that’s the way she likes it. 

LJ thought it would be colder, sitting ice level at an arena instead of being on the ice or in the stands, but something about the energy in that building means she’s never chilled. She’s in her favorite game-day outfit- black and white plaid pants, her scuffed Adidas Superstar sneakers, a white t-shirt, and her blue Kiersey Hockey windbreaker, the gold embroidery reading “BACHMANN” followed by “MANAGER.”

As she sets up her sheet, LJ notices that her left knee is bouncing. Her knees jiggling isn’t unusual, just another symptom of energy in her legs, but the side is. Her left knee hasn’t bounced like that since she injured it.

LJ smiles and takes in the scene around her. Kiersey Hockey fans buzzing behind her, her boys on the ice in front of her, as she sits in her spot with her name and “MANAGER” on her chest as her old injured knee bounces with excitement. This is where she belongs.

* * *

“Alright guys, some quick announcements!” LJ shouts to the locker room, and the guys quiet down. She smiles. “I love that. Music to my ears.” She continues, “Anyway, I’m doing another team apparel order, so if you’ve lost your windbreaker,  _ Rocco _ , or you want another sweatshirt with your name on it because your boyfriend stole the first one,  _ Nando _ , or you just feel the need to get another t-shirt, you’ve got a week to let me know or you’re out of luck. Second, if you’re free Sunday afternoon, I better see you at the women’s hockey game. If you don’t have an honest excuse, I’m making you do your own laundry!”

“Harsh punishment for missing a game that’s not even ours,” Brandon says. “What’s the deal?”

Parker elbows him and mutters, “Shut up, man.”

“The deal is, Brandon, we want to support the women's team, because they’re kickass and they deserve the world, but also that this game is a pretty big deal,” LJ explains. “Kiersey vs BU, which is important on its own because BU is hella good, but it’s especially important because Dom Fabron, who’s tearing it up for Kiersey, transferred here from BU and is facing off against her old team, so we want to be there to support her and the rest of the girls. You guys with me?”

The guys cheer.

LJ smiles. “Sweet. That’s all for now, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

The guys devolve back into their usual locker room chatter, so LJ heads out. Remy catches her as she leaves.

“Hey, what’s up?” LJ asks.

“You seem like you’re plotting something for the game Sunday,” Remy says. “I want to help.”

“I could definitely use a hand, so thanks,” she replies. “You and Dom are close, right?”

He nods. “Old friends.”

“Yeah, so definitely glad to have you help,” LJ says. “You any good at art? I want to make some signs and stuff.”

“I’m not, but I have a good friend who is.”

“Perfect. If you can get them on board and send me their contact info, I’ll add them to the group chat. I’ll add you, too.”

“Sounds good.”

“You’re my partner in crime now,” LJ says with a grin. “Maybe try to get some of the guys on board too? I know they’re not always the most receptive to me, especially once I start talking about women’s hockey.”

Remy glances back at the rest of the team for a moment. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“Thanks for your help, Remy. See you later.”   
“See you later.”

LJ walks back to the office, which finally has the right person’s name on the door, after she and Rhodey painted over “MASON” and replaced it with “LJ” in bright orange. Once there, she pulls out her phone and adds Remy Tremblay to the group chat called “Dom Fabron Support Squad.” 

Later that day, she sends a text to the saxophone group chat. Even though marching band is over, the twelve of them still keep in touch, sending each other memes and updating each other on the random elements of their lives. Most of them still play with each other in pep band at basketball games, which LJ regrets not joining. She’s brought her sax and played along for two basketball games when she didn’t have a hockey game to be at, and it was a ton of fun.

**Group Chat: i’m saxy and i know it** 🎷

**LJ Bachmann**

anyone up for going to a hockey game on sunday

**Nina DiSantis**

One was enough. I didnt understand the game and im still bitter that you never waved back at me

**LJ Bachmann**

i said im sorry! i didnt see you!

but anyway

its not one of my teams games its one of the womens hockey games

so ill be sitting with you to like explain shit

im trying to get as many people as i can to come out to this one bc my friend dom is playing against the school she transferred from and its kinda a big deal

**Zach Lieberman**

I’m up for it. I haven’t been to a Kiersey hockey game before though

**LJ Bachmann**

im willing to bribe you with food

oh sweet thanks zach!

**Alex Jimenez**

did someone say food

**Colby Brickell**

Did someone say bribe

**Izzy Marino**

😂

**LJ Bachmann**

i said both of those things

**Alex Jimenez**

what are you bribing me with food for

**Nina DiSantis**

Going to a hockey game

**Alex Jimenez**

yeah why not

when?

**LJ Bachmann**

sunday afternoon

game starts at 2

**Alex Jimenez**

alright then

**LJ Bachmann**

sweet

alex and zach ill add you guys to the gc

**Zach Lieberman**

Um, what gc?

**LJ Bachmann**

i have a planning gc of all the friends ive managed to rope into going to the game

its mostly hockey players just warning you

but theres also a few drama kids so also be warned

**Alex Jimenez**

sounds like a party

**Halle Campbell-Smith**

Okay I’m very curious about this whole situation now. I understand the hockey players but why the drama kids?

**LJ Bachmann**

one of the guys on the mens team (the one i manage) has a boyfriend in the drama club so he got a few of his friends involved

but thats not the point

anyone else in?

halle izzy colby?

**Halle Campbell-Smith**

As fun as that sounds, I’m working Sunday, sorry!

**LJ Bachmann**

actually you dont even need to go to the game if you dont want to though it would be cool if you did

i still need some people to help with signs if youre artsy

thats fine halle! 

wait i actually might swing by labyrinth then because i need food for folks

do i still get the sax discount

**Halle Campbell-Smith**

The sax discount doesn’t technically exist, but 😏

**LJ Bachmann**

sweeeet youre the best halle 💜

**Colby Brickell**

I am in fact artsy

Do I still get foodn

**Halle Campbell-Smith**

Foodn

**Ethan Homura**

Foodn

**Akash Ganguli**

Foodn

**Colby Brickell**

Dont jeuge me

**Akash Ganguli**

Jeuge

**Colby Brickell**

🖕

**LJ Bachmann**

yes colby i will still give you food if you help with signs

sign crew is meeting tomorrow at the dramat because the theater crew kids have materials

ill send you the info

**Colby Brickell**

Alright

I’m just in it for the food

**LJ Bachmann**

Also!

akash or ethan any interest in going to a hockey game sunday with me and my friends

**Akash Ganguli**

Sorry LJ, hockey’s really not my thing

Have fun though

**LJ Bachmann**

dont worry about it

and thanks

**Ethan Homura**

I’m busy on Sunday but I can help with the sign crew if you want? I’m pretty good at lettering.

**LJ Bachmann**

awesome thanks ethan!

ill send you sign crew details too

**Ethan Homura**

👍

**Sam Dunham**

There’s plotting in my group chat

**Izzy Marino**

but it’s not your group chat?

**Nina DiSantis**

Good thing Owen isnt here

**Akash Ganguli**

Shhh you’ll summon him and his bad memes

**Halle Campbell-Smith**

😂

**Sam Dunham**

Ok I think I get the gist of it now

LJ count me in!

**LJ Bachmann**

sweet thanks sam!

**Izzy Marino**

i don’t think i said this earlier so sorry i can’t come, but good luck LJ!

**LJ Bachmann**

no worries thanks izzy!

Ok so i got alex zach and sam in game gang and colby and ethan on sign crew

and halle providing me with vegan baked goods

anyone else? nina?

**Nina DiSantis**

Fine ill be game gang

But only if you promise to be patient with me

**LJ Bachmann**

i promise on alfred the alto

**Nina DiSantis**

Then were good

**LJ Bachmann**

thanks nina!

and thanks everyone too

this is gonna be so sick

LJ shuts her phone with a smile. She’s glad to have friends like the saxes.

Eventually, Sunday afternoon and the fateful Kiersey vs BU women’s hockey game rolls around. The Dom Fabron Support Squad, as LJ dubbed them, is a bigger group than expected. Remy, Rhodey, Nando, Parker, David, Teegs, Jordy, and Winner showed up to represent Kiersey men’s hockey, and when you added Quinn and a few of his drama friends plus the marching band contingent of Alex, Zach, Sam, and Nina, plus a few others like Kai, Mikayla, Sana, and Nick, they’re a winning team. Everyone is decked out in Kiersey blue and gold, and these people from so many parts of campus chat as mini-cupcakes from Labyrinth, the vegan bakery Halle works at, get passed around the group. 

LJ feels a swell of pride as she looks at the scene. But for now, there are announcements to be made. “Yo, everyone!” she shouts, and the group quiets down. “So first off, thank you all so much for coming. It’s great to see you all and I know Dom and the team are gonna really appreciate the support. The game starts in like half an hour, so now’s a good time to start heading in, but first, a few things to say. I wasn’t able to get us all tickets in the same places, but everyone should have a buddy or two, and feel free to trade tickets so you’re with people you know. I have tried to place at least one hockey-knowledgeable person in each section to help ease confusion. I think Remy’s passing out tickets now, so if you need one, find him. Kai and the sign crew have made some kickass signs, so grab one from xir when you head in. Oh, um, I’ll be in the 300s on the glass behind the Kiersey bench, if you need to find me for some reason, but just, like, text if there’s a this-related emergency. But, guys, just cheer loud, and have fun! I’ll see you all after the game.”

The hockey contingent in the back of the group cheers like they were in the locker room, and LJ grins. This is gonna be great.

* * *

There’s a Kiersey tradition that the first-year residents of Foundry Hall, better known as the Foundry Frosh, gather up their friends and spend the night on the roof of their building. LJ’s RA made a big deal about it, creating a sign-up spreadsheet for people to claim half the roof for a night. LJ didn’t really understand the hype, but she signed up for a night anyway- her last night at Kiersey before she heads home to Albany.

Standing on the roof now, looking out at campus with all of her friends by her side, LJ understands the appeal of Foundry Frosh Rootopf Nights. 

She took the far side of the roof, the side without the access door but with the rooftop garden. There are fairy lights strung up in between poles along the perimeter of the roof, the only source of light beyond the moon and stars in the sky. She’s playing music through a Bluetooth speaker in the corner. John from The Maine sings, “ _ What’s another night on Mars? With friends like ours, anywhere is home _ ,” and LJ knows exactly what he means.

Brady is sitting next to her, legs stretched out and resting on their hands. Brady is LJ’s best friend. She doesn’t know exactly why that’s weird to admit to herself. Maybe it’s that she and Brady have that kind of love-hate friendship where every jab and chirp is really just a way to say  _ I’m glad to have you around _ . Maybe it’s that it’s been a while since LJ’s had a best friend. But either way, she’s so glad to know this amazing nonbinary badass who writes code and saves pucks. 

“I’m glad we met,” LJ says to Brady. “Imagine what a friendship we’d be missing if I hadn’t asked you about your pins in frosh sem.”

Brady looks like they’re about to say something chirpy, but instead, they reply, “Yeah. Me too.”

Something warm rises in LJ’s chest, and she smiles. She notices Brady is smiling too. 

She looks around at the other people, her friends, all on top of this roof, sharing this experience with her.

Dom is here, though she admitted earlier she was reluctant to come. “It’s a freshman thing,” she had said. “I didn’t want to intrude. But Brady told me I had to come, so I came.”

LJ chuckled as she imagined exactly the look Brady gave Dom. “I’m glad you came, Dom. You’re my friend, and I want you around. You’re one of us.”

Dom smiled. “I know, but I never mind that reassurance.”

She’s hanging out by the garden now, sitting next to it and examining leaves and flowers. Dom has quite the green thumb; her dorm room has more succulents than LJ could count, and she’s admittedly curious how Dom will get them all home to Quebec City. 

Remy sits by the garden with her. He and Dom like two Quebecois peas in a pod, talking to each other in French about who knows what. Probably hockey, or making fun of everyone else in their weird language that hates consonants. 

Remy’s one of LJ’s favorite people on the team. He’s subdued in the locker room and anything but on the ice, but he’s always helpful and he likes to talk to LJ, usually just to ask her opinion of something on the ice, but she appreciates it. It’s good to have someone who she knows values her.

Suddenly, the song playing changes from the acoustic version of State Champs’ “Elevated” to something much louder and less calm. When the vocals come in, LJ recognizes it as something from Halsey. She looks over toward where the speaker was set up and sure enough, there’s Rhodey, grinning wildly with his phone in his hand. 

LJ gets up and walks over towards him. “Bold move to hijack the music at my Rooftop Night,” she says.

Rhodey retorts, “And I am nothing if not bold.” LJ gives him a look. “Fine, fine. How’s this?” He fiddles around on his phone and the Halsey song stops, replaced by “Growing Pains” by Deadlights. 

LJ smiles. “Better.” The song acts as a good symbol of the friendship between her and Rhodey. It was the first song she played for him during the first time she braided his hair before a game, an event that soon became a tradition. It was a pregame ritual for both of them, and it was the way they bonded, whether they were talking music, city pride, or the states of their disastrous queer lives. 

LJ taught Rhodey how to French braid after he asked to learn during one of their pregame braiding sessions. He’s not too bad, and he didn’t tie LJ’s hair in knots when he tested his skills on her. Meanwhile, Rhodey started teaching LJ how to play guitar once the season ended. She can play the four magic chords that make up most songs, but she’s got woodwind hands, short and fat, so contorting her left hand to play certain chords doesn’t work so well. Rhodey isn’t a bad teacher, but her favorite parts of those little lessons are when LJ hands the guitar back to its rightful owner and they sing along to whatever song he’s feeling that day.

“I promise I’ll keep playing good music if you let me play DJ,” Rhodey says, back in the present. “Please? It was a pain to connect my phone to this thing.”

LJ relents. “Sure. As long as you keep the vibes good.”

Rhodey winks at her. “Always.”

LJ looks out at her friends on the rooftop again, since standing by the back corner gives her a new vantage point. Nando and Quinn are nestled together off to the side. Quinn sits in Nando’s lap, dwarfed by his boyfriend, and they look like they’re stargazing together. As much as LJ loves to call out Nando for how in love he is with Quinn, deep down, she wants what they have, someday- a tooth-rotting adorable, loving relationship of her own. But until that day comes and her girlfriend or boyfriend becomes chirping material, she’s gonna keep making fun of Nando. She wouldn’t dare take the same angle with Quinn, though. LJ may be three inches taller than him, but he’s a ginger like her and she knows about feisty redheads from personal experience.

Not too far from Nando and Quinn are Nina and Owen, representing the marching band and the saxes. LJ doesn’t miss that they’re subtly holding hands while sitting next to each other, but Nina and Owen do make a cute couple. Strengthening the saxophone bonds, Sam would be proud.

Marching band was where LJ first found her people. Nina and LJ met on the first day of band camp, a New Hampshire native with pink streaks in her hair playing a bari sax almost as tall as she is and a charismatic ginger from Albany playing alto, and they were inseparable. Nina was LJ’s first friend at Kiersey, and LJ was Nina’s. They stuck to each other until they found their footing, but they never grew apart, even when LJ got wrapped up managing a hockey team. The two of them, plus Owen, were the freshman trio, bound by their newness and tendency to get picked on. The three freshmen aren’t like this year’s sophomores, who are really like a nuclear family, but they have each other’s backs. LJ can’t wait to be back on the field with Nina, Owen, and the rest of the saxes next summer.

Andrew is up front, talking with Brady, his old freshman seminar classmate. Out of all the people on the roof right now, probably the most surprising friendship LJ has is with Andrew. Who knew loving rival football teams would be the start of a great friendship? LJ and Andrew bickered over Giants vs Patriots for basically all of their freshman seminar, but they kept in touch even when the class was over. He made a good study buddy, and it was nice to have someone to talk sports and school with who wasn’t a hockey player. There was a short period in February where LJ was kinda-sorta-not-really dating Andrew, but that ended quickly after they both recognized they were better off as friends. Even with all their ups and downs, LJ’s glad to have Andrew here.

Towards the back and talking to each other are Frankie and Monica. That doesn’t surprise LJ one bit; her hipster friend and her concert-going buddy have a lot in common. LJ met both of them serendipitously, though in different ways. When LJ sat down in the lecture hall for her first class of spring semester, the person she sat next to had dark skin and electric blue hair and thick-framed black glasses, a cup of tea from Bluegrass in hand. She introduced herself to LJ first, saying that her name was Frankie and she liked LJ’s red and black plaid pants. And that was that. 

Frankie always makes LJ feel a little dull by comparison, just because she’s so effortlessly cool. With her bright blue hair in box braids and her hipster glasses and her chunky knit sweaters and her awesome skirts, Frankie looks like she’s supposed to be posing in front of old buildings in Europe for a magazine, not sharing notes with LJ. But having a friend made that class bearable, and there’s no cooler friend than Frankie.

LJ and Monica had even more of a chance encounter. LJ was taking the Kiersey student bus into Manchester so she could catch another bus to get to Boston for a Deadlights show. Even though they’re arguably her favorite band, LJ hadn’t seen them live before that show, so she was psyched and trying not to faint at the thought of AJ Vaughan or Jordie Severide making eye contact with her. On the Kiersey bus, LJ noticed another person in a Deadlights shirt across the aisle from her. Interrupting the silence of the bus, she said, “Hey, I like your shirt.” 

The person across the aisle looked up, glanced at LJ, and saw her Deadlights shirt. “You too.”

“Any chance you’re going to the show in Boston?” LJ asked.

“Yeah. You too?” LJ nodded. “Slide over,” the person said. “I could use a concert buddy.”

LJ and the other person in the Deadlights shirt, whose name she learned was Monica, talked all the way to Manchester and all the way to Boston, too. They traded concert stories and music picks, followed each other on Spotify and Twitter, and stuck by each other’s side even once they got to the venue. They were instant friends in the best way. After that first Deadlights concert, LJ and Monica would hit each other up whenever they needed a friend to go to a show with, whether it was Kiersey band cobbled together by students, or a small band stopping in Manchester on their small tour. 

With both Frankie and Monica, LJ was glad that whatever twist of fate that pushed them together did, and she’s especially glad to count them among the friends she has on this rooftop tonight.

That’s when it really hits her. This is why Foundry Frosh Rooftop Nights are such a big deal. It’s a moment to take stock, to appreciate the year that’s gone by and the people you’ve spent it with. And as LJ looks out, at campus, at the sky, at her friends gathered on the roof of her freshman dorm--Brady, Dom, Rhodey, Remy, Nando and Quinn, Nina and Owen, Andrew, Frankie, Monica--she thinks she’s done a pretty good job with both.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> So you just got a look into what’s been circling my brain for the past few weeks. I absolutely fell in love with Mel’s Kiersey College-verse, and I knew I wanted to be a part of it. Enter LJ, Brady, and Dom. If you follow my other work, you might recognize them as the new freshmen in one of the Longshot Shorts, but these three are a lot different than when you last saw them. This fic serves as an introduction to LJ, as well as the first glimpse of my side of the Kiersey-verse, so this is not the last you see of these characters! With that in mind, if there’s anything specific you want to see, let me know. 
> 
> And as always, thank you for reading! And stay tuned- the story of Dom Fabron is coming soon!


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